Life Will Be So Good
by Blurring-into-Gray
Summary: Late at night, Chris watches his family and imagines a bright future for them, outside of the attic. ChrisxCathy Very subtle and brief mentions of sexual encounters. A series of one shots, delving deeper into what could have happened between Chris and Cathy in the attic.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own the amazing book or movie "Flowers in the Attic".

(A.N: I imagine this taking place before Chris and Cathy have sex, but after they have been in the attic for quite some time. I just kind of wanted to show what I imagine Chris thinking about to keep him hopeful through everything. If this gets good feedback, then I would love to continue it. It's my first Flowers in the Attic fic, so I'm sorry if it isn't the best. Enjoy!)

I am going to Hell.

It's not fair that the only light in my life is off limits. This dark, evil cage that I live in gets smaller every day and the one who stops me from suffocating is going to be the reason I'm eternally damned. And I could care less.

Everything about my life is sad and lonely and vile. The Grandmother is cruel and sharp, and the control she has over me and my little family is demeaning. Demeaning and inescapable.

Her whip hurts but it is her words that truly humiliate us. The only reason I haven't completely lost it and ended up doing something terrible to her is because her whip hasn't hurt my twins. I'd sooner kill her than let her hurt them that way. And I doubt even God would blame me.

My Mother isn't even a mother anymore. She let's her own children rot away as if we are her dirty little secret, as if we are something she regrets.

Even our attic is depressing. Dust is thick in the air and sunlight is something we don't get anymore. Honestly, the worst part of this place is the thought that Cathy, Carrie and Cory all have to suffer here too. If it was just me, if I could get them free the it would maybe be bearable. But I'm the only one around to care and protect them, and I'm not even doing it right!

Then, there's Cathy. My Cathy, my wife, my girl.

My sister.

I'm going to Hell.

I love Cathy more than I love my own life. She's everything light and pure. Her hair, even cut in the front is blonde and soft. Her skin is unblemished and even if it's pale from lack of sunshine it absolutely glows. Her eyes are a clear blue that reminds me that there are oceans and birds and beautiful things outside of these dark walls that smell like rodents and age. Her figure is everything that makes my blood boil, and her soft lady-like manner makes me want to be her man, her protector.

The twins might as well be my own children, I love them as if they were my own. If Cathy and I never have children, it won't matter because we have them. They are pure as well, and innocent in the way they live. They deserve to be out playing and learning and experiencing things. They deserve the world. And all they get is this place because of or greedy Mother and that terrible old woman who controls us.

They can't control everything about us, though. They can't control the way I make the twins and Cathy laugh by imitating the crazy old woman. They can't control the way Cathy and I share whispered conversations, and sweet yet passionate kisses and touches late at night. They can't control us enough to break us.

Right now, my family lay sleeping in their tiny beds, and I want to get them out of here and show them luxury. In the dead of night, I like to watch my beautiful family as they sleep and imagine how our lives could be out of this attic. First, my eyes fix between the two twins and I picture giving them every child's dream life.

I could give them a luxurious room, with a comfy bunk bed. I can even picture them discussing who get's the top one. They would have every kind of toy and game, and they would get to choose what foods they ate every night, as long as they were reasonably healthy. They would be clean and healthy and happy, with chubby sunkissed cheeks and glowing skin. They would go to school, and the other kids would love them.

Then, my eyes drift to my heart. She's sleeping beside Carrie, just like every night, and she's curled up under the blanket. I know what kind of life we could have, and I picture this life all the time, probably more often than I read.

Obviously Cathy would be my wife, and she would wear pretty dresses that showed her beautiful form perfectly. She would practice dancing, might even teach a ballet class. She would have sunkissed skin, too, and her loving nature would become even sweeter because the attic wouldn't be surrounding her and making her hard and bitter. She would still keep a feisty, Cathy-like way about her though. I would come home after work, and I would kiss her in greeting every night. We would tuck the twins in and read them stories, and then we would retire to our room for the night.

What happens next is something I only let myself think about briefly, and it's impure and wrong but it seems so beautiful. I would lay her down and show her my love, my absolute worship of her. She would fall apart and I would piece her back together. I would claim her the way she has already claimed me. We would be one and I wouldn't ever know anything else to be so glorious. Afterwards, after we had calmed and her soft skin was pressed against my side, we would hold each other and sleep.

I know it's wrong but why shouldn't Cathy and I be happy? We aren't hurting anybody, and we love each other utterly and completely.

These images, all of them, are what keeps me from falling off the deep end. This tunnel might seem dark and cold, and most of all long but with a light that bright and warm at the end of it, I could make it. I can still be the positive, hopeful Chris because that's who they need. They need someone with hope, and as long as I can imagine how good we will have it once we are out of here, then we will be okay. The light will stay in my twins' eyes, and Cathy will hold herself together long enough to escape.

We will be fine, and life will be so good.

Hell will be worth it. Because we are in it, and we are surviving.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Flowers In The Attic, all rights belong to their respective owners.

(A.N: I imagine this taking place early in the starvation week, and I think Chris would be very conflicted about his feelings for Cathy. If you hate or love something, I'd love feedback!

Also, thank you guest reviewer, I really appreciated the review!

Enjoy!)

"Chris, are you okay?"

Her words are innocent and sweet and they fan the flames of rage burning me inside. She's standing behind me, all golden-haired and blue-eyed. I can't see her, but I can practically see her concerned expression, I can feel it.

"No, Cathy, believe it or not I am not 'okay.' I'm not even close to 'okay'. Why on God's green earth would I be okay!?" My words are sharp and quiet, especially the last one and then it's silent again. I'm standing at the window, which is where I go when I'm feeling trapped or insane, at least more so than usual. She's standing some feet behind me, but even with the distance I can feel her presence all around. It's as if the air around her shifts, becomes clearer, sweeter. Usually that calms me but right now I feel nothing can. (Maybe her touch but I push those thoughts down.)

"You're worrying me," She speaks again, "and I'm the grumpy one, remember? I'm the one that doubts and panics." She's trying to tease and make her words light, but how can she be so calm? Our twins are in the other room tearing up because they are so hungry it hurts, it's been three days since we were brought food and that old bitch is making them this way and Cathy is just standing there. Trying to calm me down. (A part of me admires her but I'm trying to not let myself think anything good about her. Mainly because those thoughts can escalate into things I'm afraid of.) I turn to her finally, and she's standing there with a tiny smile and her eyes are the most exhausted I've ever seen them. I'm speaking before I can think about what I'm saying.

"They are hungry. They are hungry, you are hungry and I'm locked in here listening to them cry about how hungry they are but I can't do anything about it. Not a damn thing! I'm the man of the family and I'm just sitting here!" My words get louder as I get more worked up, and her smile drops while the words pour out. "We even cut some of your hair, Cathy! Your beautiful hair, the hair that you love so dearly and that horrible old woman won't even come check! She's just letting us starve! We are ghosts, we are rodents that live up in this damned attic and she's exterminating us, killing us!" I don't even know I have tears running down my face until I instinctively wipe them away, and then I just… break down. I sit down and cry right there, barely remembering to keep quiet so the twins don't hear.

Usually I can push these things down, especially in front of the others. We need at least one positive person in this cage and usually I take up that role. But lately, I'm just tired. Tired of hunger, and dust. Tired of pretending to be happy when there is nothing to be happy about. Well, maybe one thing(Stop that, Chris. The thoughts can't get worse). I'm tired of pushing back tears constantly, and I'm more than tired of watching the only people I love in this world suffer. It's all getting to be too much, and I feel weak but I'm only human. I'm breaking.

Cathy slowly walks towards me and then she sits beside me, gently taking my hand in both of hers. I was afraid of scaring her off, of her knowing how weak and hopeless I'm becoming but evidently I needn't have feared. Her touch sends sparks up my arm and her soft skin actually calms me as if I'm being put under a spell.

"You know why I'm not worried?" She looks into my eyes and dear God, she owns me. In her stunning blue eyes there is such understanding and love that leaves me trying to remember how breathing works. Her smile comes back and she still has my hand in a tight hold, but she frees one of her own hands and puts it on my cheek. I might as well be a statue, I'm so still and she continues, holding her hand where it is. "I'm not worried because I know you better than I know myself. And I know that you won't let us starve. You will think of something with that huge brain of yours, and we will escape this hunger. This life." Her words make my heart pound and her sweet breath is on my face, she's that close.

"So now you're the hopeful one?" I reply. The tears have stopped and I'm smiling back at her, of course I am. I'm still tired, and I still ache but Cathy's company is the ultimate distraction. It's as if my problems are shadows and she's a light that shines on them and makes them disappear, at least for a little while.

"It appears to be that way, at least for a while. You deserve a break." Her hand is still holding mine, and her hand moves from my cheek to push my too-long hair back. I almost purr.

"I love you, Christopher Doll." Her words send shivers all through me and I'm consumed with everything Cathy is. It's bliss.

"I love you too, Catherine Doll." I hope she hears how much I mean those words, knows they aren't just an obligatory brotherly response. Saying them makes everything I yearn for seem more real, like we are young lovers rather than trapped hormonal siblings. Although, I suppose we are both. (These thoughts are sad, so I stop thinking them. Again.) She smiles at me in response, and then as if I'm not already swept up by her, she quickly leans towards me (Is it normal to be this dizzy?) and our lips meet. It lasts a heartbeat, and then we are parted and she stands up.

I blink and try to calm down, wishing I would have had the time to reciprocate. Our eyes meet, and then she speaks,

"I'm going to go get the twins to bed. Are you going to be ok?" I nod, and I feel awful again because Cathy is leaving and I'm reminded of the twins. I feel guilty for forgetting them in the first place, but it's hard keeping a clear head around my doll. I don't let my thoughts show on my face, however, because the twins need Cathy's soothing presence more than I do. Instead I smile as brightly as I am able to, and I keep my voice light when I respond.

"Don't worry, Doll. I just need to plan a way out of this. I'll think of something." I will, too. Even if I have to smash the window, fall to the ground and let them use my body as a cushion, we will escape this place. We will. I'm determined.

"I know you will." Her face is happy at first glance, but even at her young age she has the mark of an aged soul in her face, and demeanor. Even the twins have traces of a maturity well beyond their years etched into them, despite their lack of physical growth. No matter what, this attic and this time in our lives will always be a part of us. The thought makes me angry but when(if) we make it out alive, the subtle aging won't matter. All that will matter is us sticking together.

Cathy gives me one more shy glance (it's so endearing I feel like melting) and then she leaves, unknowingly making the room darker, and colder. I don't know how long I sit there, but it can't be too long since when I pull myself together and make my way to where the twins are laying clutching each other for comfort, they are only just falling asleep. We let them lay together sometimes because they need each other, and when we do let them I just switch them early before the Grandmother arrives. It's a huge benefit but also a scary one because I am forced to share a small bed with Catherine on these nights.

When the twins are wrapped more tightly in the blankets, and they have each received a kiss on the forehead, I climb into the bed where Cathy is waiting, the covers open for me. It's dark, and I'm alone in our own small world. I would be in heaven, but I'm also afraid of getting too close. Sometimes I feel like the Devil himself because of the feelings she ignites in me, and other times I can't help myself from touching, and holding.

After a few minutes of laying there , facing eachother but not touching, I can't stop myself. I slowly place my hand on the perfect dip of her waist. She doesn't protest, so I rub little circles on her skin through her nightgown with my thumb, wishing with everything in me that I was touching bare skin. Soon we are both gradually getting closer, and her sweet breath is on my collarbone while I tuck her under my chin. We are embracing tightly now, mixing like drops of water, and I almost doze off in perfect contentment, when her voice softly reaches my ears.

"Chris, we are holding each other the way lovers do." I stop breathing for a second, but she's my sister, so I respond the way I need to,

"We aren't lovers, Cathy. We are just lonely." The words sting my tongue as I speak them because they are true for her maybe, but for me they couldn't be more false.

"We love each other though, don't we?"

"Not in that way." Again, hard to speak but necessary. I am likely to be eternally damned, but Cathy doesn't need to be. Hopefully.

"Oh." Maybe I'm delusional but she sounds upset. Maybe she is damned, as well. I shouldn't be so excited at the thought (I am and that shows how wrong this is.).

"I know we aren't lovers, but can I kiss you?" Her words are gentle and innocent and I'm a goner. I should say no.

"Yes." I sound too eager, but it doesn't matter because her hands are holding my face and then we are kissing, really kissing the way lovers do. My hands are holding her the way I dream about and oh Lord, I'm licking her lips and she scrapes my bottom one with her teeth. I feel myself become aroused, but I can't hide it from her and she doesn't seem to react to it. Soon though, I feel lightheaded and we part. I still taste her, and I gather her into me, knowing that if I kiss her anymore I might not be able to control the urge to have her and make her mine. Just the thought has me shivering.

"Goodnight, Christopher Doll." My name on her lips is very good thing. She falls asleep quickly, and I'm feeling quite tired, as well. Right before I nod off, I realize I can say anything and she won't hear. So I let myself indulge, let myself pretend for just a moment.

"Goodnight, my beautiful Catherine Doll." I fall asleep, and even though my stomach is empty and it's uncomfortably hot, especially with the body heat (worth it, but that's a dangerous thought too),

I sleep just fine.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own "Flowers In The Attic", not the dialogue or the characters or the plot, or really anything! All rights belong to their respective owners.

(A.N: This is just what might have been running through Chris' head when they snuck out to swim. I loved this part, because I could just imagine how freeing that must have felt for them! Thank you for the reviews and favorites, and enjoy reading!)

I don't know why I felt so much more cooped up than usual. My skin seemed to be crawling because of how trapped I felt. All I could think about was the outside breeze, the smell of freshly mowed grass, and how nice would it be to jump into that lake so nearby…. Before I knew what I was doing, I was trying to convince Cathy to join me for a swim. She thought I was joking at first, but soon enough I had convinced her.

It felt surreal to stand on the soft grass rather than the floorboards of that cramped attic, and I probably would have enjoyed it even more if I wasn't feeling so nervous. It had been relatively easy for me to climb down the sheet ladder, if I took it slow. I was stronger in the arms, but my legs managed. However, Cathy could always slip or move too fast and fall. Because of this I was rather worried, and I was careful to stand directly underneath her, so I could catch her just in case.

Just imagine; her falling and getting hurt because of my idea! I wouldn't be able to bear it. I swear I was shaking in fear by the time she made her way to the ground. Luckily, my Cathy pleasantly surprised me by declining better than I did! I should have known her legs would be stronger than mine, considering her dancing, but all I could picture while she climbed down was her falling and breaking her neck. Thank God she got down just fine! I praised her for doing better than I had, and I hugged her in relief. The smile that my actions earned me made me feel almost as good as the warm summer air around us did.

It was a calm night, perfect for swimming, and as we made our way to the lake my hand found Cathy's and I took the time to soak in everything. I let my eyes take in the trees with their fluttering leaves, happy that my eyes had already adjusted. The air was fresh and clean, rather than the stale air we were so used too. I was glad I thought of doing this, but I felt terrible that our twins were sleeping, still cooped up inside. They were afraid to even step foot on the roof, so getting them to the ground safely would be more than impossible. Our poor twins. Soon, I would get them outside and Cathy and I would teach them to swim, the way Father taught us.

When we arrived at the lake, I remembered something. We hadn't brought anything to swim in! We could always swim bare…. The thought of Cathy swimming nude was making me feel funny, so I spoke up.

"Are we going to skinny-dip?" I scanned her body with my eyes before I could stop myself and her figure, as always, made my blood feel hot. I could just wear my shorts, but she was wearing more than I was. It was her decision.

"No. We are going to swim in our underwear." I felt disgusted at myself, because what normal man feels disappointment over not seeing his sister naked? I felt dirty. However, I just nodded, thankful that Cathy couldn't read my sinful thoughts. Cathy innocently ran down the dock, apparently ready to just jump in. I took off my shirt and as I was undoing my watch, I noticed she seemed to hesitate. I knew what I had to do, and I ran as fast as I could towards her, before playfully shoving her in. She rose to the surface, but before she could say anything I was climbing rocks, ready to show off all the swimming skills I possessed.

When I dove into that lake, a change came over me. I was high off of the cold water and every sense I had seemed heightened. I was energetic and young, enjoying a swim for the first time in much too long. I grabbed Cathy's legs and pulled her down! Absently I was curious as to how her touch could still feel warm even submerged in the colder water. I didn't dwell for long, however, because my mind was racing in the most wonderful way. I was free, away from the dust and the late night tears. Away from the sickness and the cramped rooms. It was heaven and for those precious minutes in the water it was just Cathy and I, swimming and laughing and playing, both of us blissed out, acting like the children we couldn't be anymore.

"This is the back crawl." I announced, showing off. I was clumsy on foot, but in the water I was much more graceful and I was happy that Cathy could see me like this.

Everything was amazing, and I was drowning in Cathy's presence and basking in the water when, too soon, our bodies became tired. We weren't used to all the activity, and we decided laying down near the water sounded rather nice. As we settled on the ground I couldn't help but notice that Cathy's drenched pajamas showed me her womanly curves and clung to her in a way that made me feel dirty again. By God, but she was beautiful! Her perfection made her seem goddess-like. We lay side by side, looking up at the fireflies. I was so relaxed, and my mind was finally calm. I hadn't felt this content in so long.

We talked a little as we watched the fireflies. I wasn't really focusing on them, I was just basking in all of the sensations I never got to feel. The grass, the cold water soaked into my shorts, the way there wasn't a roof separating me from the sky. Everything was like a drug to me, making me lazy while my body thrummed with exhilaration. My eyes kept traveling to Cathy, and oh, she was a picture with the way the moon shone on her. Her skin seemed to be pure white. Even drenched she made me dizzy.

Cathy turned to me, and stated that I was old as our Father was when he met our Mother. Maybe it was the way the air made me feel so light, because before I could think it over I told her she was as old as our Mother had been. We stared at each other, just taking each other in. Everything was perfect in that moment. For those seconds I couldn't think a bad thought if I tried. Even the best moments end though.

Soon our Mother came up and just like that everything hurt again. I don't trust our Mother much at all anymore, but I'll never admit that to Cathy. Admitting it would be killing whatever hope we have. We could escape with the ladder, since it obviously worked fine, but would we able to survive out on our own, knowing next to nothing besides what we'd seen on television? The only knowledge I possessed was the medical facts I'd read, and that was not nearly enough to get a job that would steadily support myself and three others! I needed schooling.

The thinking had been giving me a steady headache, and I could feel it coming back again. I thought of our twins, and Cathy seemed to read my mind because she told me we should leave. I suggested another swim because who knew how long it would be before we did this again? However she wanted to return to our twins, and I did as well, so we headed back. I savored everything some more on the way back to the house. God only knew when I would be able to feel it all again.

Everything was fairly peaceful until Cathy started to climb up the ladder.

I swear I felt my heart skip at least three beats.

Because Cathy slipped.

In my mind I was seeing her falling, one hand reaching for me, too far away to grab. For a few terrible seconds I thought I would lose her, all because I was too stupid to consider the fact that her legs were strong but her arms weren't. Why did I just assume she would be able to get up perfectly fine, the way I had?

Luckily I was able to react quickly. I talked her through the climb, keeping my voice rather steady, against all odds. In a few long moments she was on the roof, safe. I immediately began apologizing, and I kept myself outwardly calm and cheerful, but inside my heart cracked. Cathy's difficulty with climbing up couldn't be good. We didn't talk about it but I think we both were thinking over how hopeless everything was becoming.

As I went to sleep that night, my mind was full of images my mind kept conjuring up and oh, they were gruesome; our twins slowly wasting to dust, our Mother and the Grandmother cackling at our graves while they admired their expensive jewelry, our Father aching for us wherever he was now, not being able to help us.

The only comfort I had was that I didn't dream.

(A.N: I'm sorry this is a bit short, and I haven't updated for quite some time. I've been having pretty bad writer's block, but hopefully I'll be more inspired soon! As always, reviews are greatly appreciated.)


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own "Flowers in the Attic", just a copy of it! All rights belong to their respective owners.

(A.N: I am so very sorry for how long this took me to update. My only excuse is I just got a new baby brother recently, so it's been an adventure! I tried to make this a bit longer as a sad attempt of making the wait not as bad. Honestly, I suppose this could take place anytime after their first year in the attic, so you can picture it happening whenever you choose. Thank you so much for the reviews and favorite, and Enjoy!)

It's late in the night, and since sleep isn't coming to me I'm sitting on the bathroom floor, curled up and trying to fight off the fear I have when I think about just how deep my feelings are becoming for Cathy. She's my little sister, for God's sake! I'm not supposed to want her! I'm not supposed to picture how she would look with a wedding dress on, walking towards me down the aisle.

I'm really really not supposed to picture our wedding night, either.

I hate the way this place steals who I could have been.

I wonder sometimes what I would have been like had my Father not passed away. I would have kept up with my studies, reading and cramming as much information into my head as I could. Maybe I could have joined a sport. My Mother would still be loving, and I would still adore her. My Father would teach me the things I need to know about becoming a man, growing older. Cathy would still be my obnoxious sister, and I would love her like a brother should, despite the way she would sometimes push my buttons. I would teach the twins how to swim and play games as they grew, and all of my siblings would look up to me.

I would meet new people at school as time went on. Established friendships to cherish. I would meet a pretty girl, maybe a brunette, with big eyes and a charming smile. We would talk about small things, then as we got closer she could meet my normal, loving family. My Mother would adore her and Cathy would tease me for liking a girl, even though she would be secretly happy for me. The girl would play with the twins and go on about how cute they were. I would fall in love with her wit and kindness.

Cathy would meet someone too, a little later. He would be pleasant, and I would make sure to do what good brothers do by meeting him and giving him the classic don't-you-dare-hurt my-little-sister-speech. He would promise to be nothing but a complete gentleman. She would go on innocent dates with him, and soon they would be 'going steady'. I would be happy for her too. He would befriend the twins by buying them candy and playing games with them. Cathy would fall for how well he treated her, and them. She would adore how charming he was.

The rest, like my life after high school, is always too hard to imagine. I can only picture myself with Cathy on my arm and our twins in my care. I try to picture myself loving and marrying someone else, but the girls from my fantasies always morph into my Catherine. Every time. I know I would want to be a doctor, because that's what I've always wanted, but apart from my career my future doesn't even exist without Cathy and our twins.

I'm ripped right out of my thoughts quite abruptly when I hear very light footsteps on the floor right outside the bathroom door. I have been sitting in the dark, because I didn't want to wake the children by turning the bathroom light on. I hear the steps right outside the door; a tiny, barely-there knock reaches my ears. With a sigh I slowly stand, turn on the light and open the door, only to see Cory standing before me as he rubs his eyes, still thick with sleep.

"Cory? What are you doing up?" I'm quite surprised; the twins never wake in the middle of the night, yet here he is.

"I'm scared." His voice is timid, as usual, and I automatically wish Cathy was up in my place. She's a lot better when it comes to choosing good words to comfort the little ones. I also feel a stab of guilt at leaving the bed; Cory must have hated waking up alone. I realize vaguely that guilt is becoming as much a part of me as if it was a physical trait. I choose not to look into that too much right now.

"Did you have a nightmare, buddy?"

"Mmhmm." He's got his arms wrapped around himself, and my heart cracks a little more at how small and defenseless my baby brother really is. "I can't sleep again," he continues.

"Will you feel safer if I come back and lay with you?" I ask him gently. "I won't let anything hurt you, you know that." My words taste bitter, since I'm letting things hurt him every second, every moment he's trapped here. The guilt comes back, reminding me of a persistent headache that only pauses long enough to make you forget how bad the pain really is until it returns.

"I want Carrie." He says firmly, and then he pauses and adds as an after thought; "Please?".

Well damn it. I don't want to wake the girls but how can I deny him something else, on top of everything else he doesn't get to have? I'm at a loss of what to do, until I hear the sweetest voice in the world half-whispering with a gentle tone; "Come here Cory, you can have my spot." My heart is beating faster and she hasn't even spoken to me. Great.

Cory's little face lights up, and the sight soothes me. He tells me goodnight and then before I can even respond he's walking quickly back into the darkness. I hear him settle into the covers while Cathy tucks him in, telling him she loves him. The words make my throat feel tight, I can practically feel the intense love she has for our little twins in the air. After a moment I turn the light off again, blinking in the darkness. I make my familiar way back to the bed, trying to push back the excitement of being able to sleep next to Catherine again. It doesn't happen quite that often but when it does I sleep a lot better.

I climb into bed next to her, and we lay facing eachother, mere inches apart. I'm still not quite ready for sleep yet so I whisper to her, "I'm sorry we woke you."

"Shh. Don't be sorry, silly. I've been tossing and turning anyway. Why were you sitting in there?"

If I tell her I was thinking about my complete and undying love for her she might be a bit startled. I decide to tell a different truth, for obvious reasons.

"I was picturing what things could be like." Her hand gently grabs mine underneath the blankets and I suppress a shiver. Her skin is really warm.

"What do you think would've happened?" 'If we weren't trapped in an attic by our greedy Mother and the psychotic, unmerciful Grandmother who thinks we are the spawn of the Devil himself' is what we don't say but we both think it. Her hand gently squeezes mine and I squeeze back.

"I think I would have been the most popular, handsome and charming guy in school, obviously. Girls would want me, and boys would wish they were me." I tease lightly, trying to sound serious and failing pitifully. I can almost feel her eyes roll.

"Well, Mr. Popular, what would I be like, pray tell?" Her tone is light but I know Cathy better than I know anything else, so I know she's extremely curious. I can't resist teasing her a bit more.

"You would be Mr. Popular's sister, lucky girl." She scoffs but I can tell she's holding back a smile.

"Fine. Don't tell me. I can imagine for myself." She pauses for a moment, pretending to seriously consider, and then continues, "I would have tons of friends, and they would adore and respect me. I would have great grades, and soon I would be seen as 'Catherine, incredibly charming and likeable young woman. The gal everyone wants to know." She makes herself sound as haughty as possible, and I know she's just teasing me for what I said but inside I know that's exactly what she would have been. I chuckle, as if I don't believe every word she said, and I respond, "I'll bet. No one can resist a dancer's charm."

"Not even you?" Does she get a kick out of making me feel like a despicable human being? Why oh why does she insist on adding fuel to the fire? After a moment, against my better judgement I reply,

"Nope. Not even me." I regret my words as soon as they slip past my tired lips. My voice is quiet but I know she hears when she looks away in what I can only hope is flattery. However, I decide it's most likely disgust. I'm too afraid to speak up, so I just lay on my back, waiting for merciful slumber to deliver me from this embarrassing silence. I wish I could see her face more clearly in the dark.

I'm just on the edge of slumber, finally, when I hear Cathy speak once more, very softly.

"I didn't know I could miss something before it even happens." Her voice is soft and I want to take her mind off of this. Especially since I'm the one who brought it up, in a way.

"Don't worry, Lady Catherine," faintly I can see her full lips stretch into a smile at the name, "Once this nightmare is over we will be complete and utter socialites, just you wait. Every night we'll go dancing and partying until the sun rises. Once morning comes we will sleep the daylight hours away, and then it'll be time to attend another event. You will dazzle everyone with beautiful gowns and graceful dance steps, while I use my extreme wit and charisma to keep everyone in stitches. We'll be living a dream." As my descriptions continue she quietly laughs more and more. I'm on top of the world.

"Wait a minute, my dear Christopher! What of the little ones? What will our twins do while we are indulging in such things?" Her voice sounds much brighter as she plays along, and I'm very happy to have distracted her from the negativity we always need to fight back.

"We will bring them along for the ride, of course! Cory will play music for everyone, and Carrie will have so many funny stories to tell. If anyone says they are too young for such things, they will be…" I fumble for words, and I can tell I'm going to fall asleep soon while I ramble on, "...exiled!"

Cathy is snuggling into my side, and she's almost asleep as well if her voice is anything to go by.

"That all sounds perfect, Chris. That shall be our goal. But now, we must rest so our minds will be nice and sharp tomorrow. Goodnight." I agree completely, and just before I nod off, I hear say my name and my heart swells again.

That night I do something I hardly ever do. I dream.

I dream of candlelight and soft music and grand ballrooms and sparkling wine glasses. I can see my Cathy in a flattering, fancy gown and I see us dancing slowly, everyone else in the crowded room making room for us as we glide across the dancefloor. At least, Cathy would glide, I would probably end up stepping all over her poor little feet. Slowly, like a sort of grand finale, I would lean down and capture her lips with mine, causing everyone to clap and cheer around us.

I decide I like dreaming.


End file.
